


Leonine

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: Canon Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: “Mythra! Long time no see!”It’s him.





	Leonine

**Author's Note:**

> one of the things that really bothered me about xc2 is that mythra and mikhail never got any sort of 1-on-1 interaction despite everything that happened in torna, so here's a rewrite of that scene in the old factory where patroka and mik show up

“That Nopon is still of use to us. Do you really have to interfere?”

Nia is the first to turn, heart audibly caught in her throat when she mutters, “ _Patroka._ ”

And in the midst of being confronted by this sudden, new threat, none of them notice the way Mythra’s hands tremble. None of them would realize those subtle twitches at the tips of her fingers mean she’s reaching inwardly for Pyra, who would be covering her mouth in horror if she were the one out here right now; but she’s not, and Mythra is more practiced in the art of hiding away her shock with cool indifference.

Most of the time.

“I figured you’d be with them,” Patroka drawls. She scans their motley little group— children, they’re all just children. Pathetic. “Akhos did mention you decided to turn traitor.”

“I’m not—!”

“Nia? Who are these guys?” Rex asks.

“Patroka,” Nia says, and Mythra’s jaw clenches when she confirms her suspicions. “And Mikhail. Drivers from Torna.”

But that can’t be right. _That can’t be right_ , Pyra cries out in her mind, and Mythra pleads for her to shut up for a moment so she can _think._

There’s no time to think, not even for an Aegis capable of making precise calculations in a span of a single blink. Mikhail steps forward with a flourishing gesture, one arm extended, and… there’s no way that can be him. Not that boy.

“Mythra! Long time no see!”

It’s him.

Pyra is struggling not to cry.

“Mikhail…” she breathes out, and ignores the confused looks from the others. “How are you still alive...?”

That smile is all twisted and crooked and wrong, his movements dramatic and grand.

“Aww, is that really the first question that comes to mind? You’re not gonna ask when I got so tall? Or how I came to be this stunningly handsome?”

That’s not Mikhail. It can’t be him. It’s been five hundred damn years and he wasn’t… oh; that stained Core Crystal she saw on Nia’s chest. The realization hits the bottom of her gut like a heavy stone.

Nia looks back to her, knowing exactly what that bitter sadness means, and nods.

Oh, Mik.

“I’m… sorry…” The choked words sound like Pyra’s. Mikhail sneers and slings an arm around Patroka’s shoulders, not at all concerned about how she’s clearly ready to slam a fist into his cocky grin.

“Huuuh? Did you say something, Aegis?”

“Mikhail…”

“Haha! Please, grovel more! Can you believe it, Patroka? The beautiful Aegis herself is begging for _my_ forgi— _ow_.”

Patroka sighs. “Mik. I don’t give a _shit_ about whatever history you had with her. We’re just here to kill the kids and take the Aegis back to Jin and Malos. Got it?”

“Okay, okay.”

She remembers everything so damn vividly. That child cradling his best friend’s body in his arms on that ship where all those survivors watched Torna sink below the clouds and all Mythra could see is that hollow grief, that accusing grief, a boy who had nothing but still lost _everything—_

“Mythra! Are you alright?” Rex is holding her sword.

“Shut up. Shut up,” she automatically snaps, still pleading with Pyra to calm down. Don’t let their anguish overwhelm them again. This isn’t the time nor place. “I’m fine. Focus on the fight.”

Nia steps up close beside her. “That kind of thing… really messes with a person’s head.”

“... Yeah.”

She takes a deep breath.

Patroka and Mikhail charge forth.


End file.
